Polly Ann
by Rose and Psyche
Summary: Or, whatever happened to 1930? Merry Christmas!


_Polly Ann_

* * *

><p>.New Year's Day, 1930.<p>

_Polly Ann_, laying moored to the bank with frozen warps, seemed almost a ghost melting into the golden mist rising from the broad. She might have been a painting, for how still and perfectly she lay, reflected in the growing ice under her bows. What was showing of her great, tarred mainsail was grey with frost and though her decks and cabin roof were powdered with a fine carpet of snow and frost crystals were growing on her shrouds, somebody was aboard her. Smoke was billowing out of her chimney, bringing with it the smell of coffee and frying bacon.

Around a bend in the river, a soft hum materialized into a motor boat and suddenly there was a stampede of footsteps coming up the companionway of the wherry and half a dozen children tumbled out onto the frozen decks. "Here she is! This must be her! And only ten minutes late!"

A roar from inside the cabin echoed and shattered the frozen air, "Below decks the lot of you and put your coats on!" and presently, a large, fat man with a shining bald head came up himself, just pulling on his hat. He was in time to catch a rope and make fast as the motor boat came busily up to lay alongside the wherry, shattering ice that has been growing all night. The hum lessoned as the man in the stern put the engine out of gear.

"Good morning, Mrs Walker," Captain Flint said, reaching down to take a parcel that she handed up.

"Good morning and I hope I'm not late."

"Nothing to signify," Captain Flint replied with a twinkle in his eye and said no more, because at that moment, all the children came tumbling back on deck with coats on, clamouring to be heard.

"You've found us all right," John said.

"Of course she did," Nancy said. "She's here, isn't she?"

"We were afraid you might have missed your train," Susan said.

"Yes, I'm here safe and sound. Take this parcel," Mrs Walker handed up something wrapped in brown paper. "Don't squash it, its chocolates from a confectioners. I had time to waste waiting for my bus. No, don't give it to Roger. They're not to be eaten yet."

"Shiver my timbers! Hand them here," Nancy said, reaching out to take them.

"Look here, Mother!" Roger said reproachfully.

"That's for Susan," Mrs Walker said, handing up a basket with parcels tied up in colourful ribbon. "Don't let her see them yet."

Susan laughed.

"Don't all stand in the way; I'm coming up." A dozen hands reached out to steady her and a moment later she was on deck.

"Hello Nancy and Peggy, hello my hooligans, not drowned, I see." Mother's eyes were smiling as she took them all in, settling on Susan.

"How is twelve? Is it as good as being eleven?" Mother said, kissing Susan. "Daddy sent you a telegram. I thought you'd like to open it yourself."

"That's the trouble with having a birthday so near Christmas, it often gets skipped right over," Nancy Blackett said. "But we'll see that you have a good one."

"I should think so," Mrs Walker said.

"Where's Vickie?" Titty asked.

"I left her in the care of Nurse and Aunt Barbara in London. I thought she'd be happier there than here, getting her poor nose and fingers cold. We'll all be back tonight and she can wish Susan 'Many Happy Returns' in her own language."

"It's a pity she's not here; she might have danced a corroboree on the cabin roof. But perhaps it's for the best."

"I think it is," Mother said. "Are you going to let me below, or are we going to camp out here in the bush, trying to warm our cold hands?"

"But it doesn't get cold in the bush," Titty said.

"You ought to see it when it does."

Then they were all going below, drawing Mrs Walker along like a lot of tugs drawing a liner, "Though you're not a bit like a liner, really," Titty said, "More of a schooner with all sails set, flying along."

"I'm very flattered," Mother said stepping down into the steaming saloon to see the table and curtains over the portholes and four real cabins with bunks in them for the Swallows and the Amazons and one left over to shut up Roger's pet monkey. "Why, this _is _nice! It's almost a pity to tear them away tonight."

"We'd be happy to stay," John said hopefully.

"They've been as good as gold, ma'am," Captain Flint added. "I couldn't have asked for a better crew."

"Aye, they've been able-bodied seamen, all of them, and can wind a yarn to beat the band." An old man with a wizened face and a bit of white beard around his chin moved away from the bulkhead, proving as he did so that he wasn't part of the woodwork.

"Mrs Walker," Captain Flint said. "This is Peter Duck. He's been wasting no time turning us all into proper seamen."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Duck," Mrs Walker said, shaking his hand.

"Aye, but ye've a grand lot o' young 'uns, ma'am," he replied.

"I'm glad someone else thinks so," Mrs Walker laughed, turning back to look at them, "What's all this about a yarn I hear? Something about a schooner? Or is it a clipper? And a desert island."

"Come sit next to me," Titty said, steering her mother towards a chair. "It's a Schooner called _Wild Cat_, and we've all had a splendid adventure."

"It was Black Jake; the man with the gold ear rings," Roger said. "And Gibber was in it too; we even named a mountain after him."

"It's Gibber now? I thought you named him 'Jacko' after the monkey in _The Cruise of the Falcon_?"

"But he gibbers so much," Roger said. "And I don't believe he likes 'Jacko' as much as 'Gibber'."

"Anyhow, he came," Titty said, steering her mother back onto the subject of the story. "And Polly came, too."

"And Swallow had a real ocean voyage." John added the thing, that to him, seemed to be the most important.

"And she got a bullet in her," Nancy reminded him. "Gosh, I wish she really did have."

"And there was a terrific storm," Peggy added. "And afterwards there was a waterspout."

"But, we all went to bed at proper times and had plenty of green things to eat," Susan said quickly. "Except on the Island, of course, when there was nothing but coconuts."

"And bananas," Roger said. "Gibber liked the bananas."

"Something to put in your next letter to Daddy," Mother said.

"He'd love it," Titty said with shining eyes.

"I'm sure he would."

"If we had thought about it a bit more, he might have come with us," Titty said, suddenly troubled. How could she have forgotten Daddy, all alone in the China seas? He could probably sail even better than Captain Flint. And then there was Mother.

Mother saw her clouded face and laughed, "You wouldn't have wanted us, too," she said. "Too many cooks spoil the stew."

* * *

><p>Dusk falls quickly in January and it fell like a shade over the gold and the glittering crystals. The swinging cabin lamp shone through the portholes, sending shadows flickering over the deck and light dancing on the feather-grown ice at the edges of the river.<p>

The lapping of water and the soft sound of wind in _Polly Ann's _shrouds were covered over with talking and laughter from the wherry's cabin. A bittern, shy and small, was creeping along, poking its beak into the frozen bases of reeds, and, whenever a particularly loud burst of laughter rippled from _Polly Ann, _standing with its neck and head stretched straight up so it looked like a bunch of reeds itself. They were kicking up a regular row inside the wherry, sometimes with an accordion belting out 'Happy Birthday' sometimes with the stamping of feet and singing. For some time, there was a feast in full swing and it was a bit quieter, interrupted only by old Peter Duck saying, "Aye, ship's boy, that's the way. There's nothing like taking on ballast to keep your keel down and your mast up."

And the dark became even darker and the black reeds on the river bank became one with the black tarred sides of _Polly Ann,_ and the moon, very low on the horizon, made a small silver pool in the clouds as if a shining pearl were melting. Presently, the voices in the cabin were growing regretful and a hatch opened, spilling light onto the deck as people came up the companionway.

"It's a bit later than I meant," Captain Flint was saying. "It'll mean walking in the dark."

"It's all right; we don't mind, do we?" Mrs Walker replied. "As long as the buses are still running."

"I wish we weren't going," Titty said and wandered forward with a half formed idea of saying good-bye to the ship.

"Just think; it's 1930!" Nancy said, following her and leaning over the rail to see the faint overlay of crystals in the newly formed ice beneath _Polly Ann's_ bows. "Imagine everything we'll be able to do this year! It's going to be more stupendous than last year, once you all come up again."

"We won't be coming, not this year," John said a little sadly. He was following them with the riding light in one hand, ready to hoist on the forestay.

"What? Not coming?" Nancy turned sharply. "You _are _invited. If Holly Howe is full up, we can cram you into Beckfoot. At least, your mother can stay there, and it won't matter about the rest of you, because we'll all be on the Island."

"It's no use," John said miserably. There was dull red glow in his hand as he lit a match and held it to the wick of the lantern. "We simply can't come. It's all set; we're going to Australia over the summer holidays."

"Australia!" Peggy exclaimed.

"To visit grandparents," Titty said. "And the ancestral home of the Best of all Natives."

"We were originally going to Hong Kong, to see Daddy, but he said we'd better go to Australia instead," Susan said hurriedly, feeling that she had to explain why they were neglecting their father.

"We haven't got any grandparents," Peggy said, for the first time wondering if she was missing something. "We have a Great Aunt."

"She doesn't count," Nancy said mechanically. "Giminy. That chucks a spanner in the works. I was counting on you all coming. We might have done anything, trekking with ponies, prospecting; we haven't even climbed Kanchenjunga."

"We'll come next year," Susan said.

"Without fail," John added and ran the riding light up hand over hand. They watched it glimmering there for a moment, making the dark seem much darker. They said nothing, but it reminded them all of the lighthouse tree on Wild Cat Island, glimmering through the darkness to bring weary sailors home.

"Giminy…1931," Nancy said at last. "Gosh, it seems like such a long time to wait. I hope you have fun in Australia."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> If there's one thing that always puzzled us about the Swallows and Amazons series, it's the missing year. No matter how you cut it, or fiddle with it, something doesn't line up. The characters ended up slightly cockeyed because of it…there seems to be a great difference in their maturity between _Swallows and Amazons _and _Swallowdale_. John talks less and thinks more; instead of daydreaming about exploring and coming up with fantastic place names like the year before, he is more concerned with getting his mast done, and Susan, always hesitant about imaginary adventures, is almost completely native. The year after, in _Pigeon Post,_ the adventure they come up with is real, finding gold on High Tops, rather than having a War. Titty isn't constantly in the company of Peter Duck anymore, and without the missing year, she'd only be eleven and still young enough for imaginary friends. By _Secret Water_ both John and Susan seem to be far beyond the age of wars and corroborees, even Titty seems hesitant to join in.

The biggest factor, of course, is Bridget, who turns two in _Swallows and Amazons_, but is already three _before_ her birthday in _Swallowdale_. I don't know what you think, but Bridget seems a bit more than a newly turned four-year-old in _Secret Water_, which is the year after.

And the missing year can't be explained by saying that Ransome originally intended _Peter Duck_ to be real. For one thing, he wrote it after Swallowdale, for another, the two forgotten chapters aboard the wherry on the Norfolk Broads, called _Their Own Story,_ were written immediately after _Swallows and Amazons_, and make it clear that the story of the little green schooner and the treasure on the island, is only a story. Peter Duck is a real character in those chapters, helping them aboard _Polly Ann_, while in the meantime, the children, spearheaded by Titty and Nancy, are trying to get Captain Flint to tell them the story which later becomes _Peter Duck._

In _Their Own Story_, there even seems to be some question as to whether _Swallows and Amazons_ is real:

_"It must be written by someone who knows us," said Mate Susan. "You can tell that because he's got such a lot of the things that happened right."_

_"But just look at the things he's got wrong," said Mate Peggy. _

_"I don't see how anybody could know what we felt," said Titty, "and he's always pretending he knew."_

_"We're all a bit different from what we really are," said Captain John. "Just look how tidy he's made Susan."_

_"Well she is tidy," said Roger._

_"Tidier than you," said John, "But not as tidy as all that."_

_"Daddy said he thought Captain Flint wrote it," said Susan. "Mother sent a copy out to him in Hong Kong, and when he wrote back to say thank you he asked her to send his compliments to Captain Flint and to say that he did not mind having his telegram printed, but that if half the things in the book were true he thought we all deserved to be drowned several times over, duffers or not duffers. It was the sailing at night that upset him."_

_John opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again._

And later, when asked if he'd written it, Captain Flint denied all knowledge of it.

_"Of course I didn't," said Captain Flint._

_"Honest pirate you didn't?"_

_"Honest pirate."_

So, where did 1930 go? Nobody really knows. Probably Roger's right when he's contemplating how much bigger he got over a year. Probably Nancy is wrong when she writes 1931 on the back of the paper from the box, when just the year before she'd scribbled 1929 on the treaty with the Swallows. Probably Arthur Ransome just forgot; the only book that could lift all doubt is _Mixed Moss_ by a Rolling Stone…and I can't find a copy anywhere. ;)


End file.
